


and where have I been?

by virgilsjourney (jenna221b)



Series: Sanders Sides Ficlets [14]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Crying, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantasy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Roman, Memory Loss, Roman's room, The Snow Queen - Freeform, deceit is a villain, fairytales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 00:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13892388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna221b/pseuds/virgilsjourney
Summary: He knocks quietly. “Uh. Hey, Roman. I think dinner’s ready.” No response. Virgil feels a slight twist of something in his chest, but presses on, trying for lightness. “Yo, Romano, are you sleeping or something?” Again, silence, and Virgil knowsthatisn’t right- he expected at least one indignant shout from theRomano.He moves his hand to the doorknob, and grasps it, only to jerk back and gasp in shock at howcoldit is.“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”





	and where have I been?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr post: https://virgilsjourney.tumblr.com/post/171592211585/virgilsjourney-virgilsjourney

What bothers Virgil the most is that, at first, he didn’t even realise anything was wrong. And that’s his _job_ \- some protector he is.

He is used to when Logan snaps out of frustration and reaches breaking point; used to Patton covering up aching sadness with imitations of smiles. The trouble is, they are not actors, not really, and Roman very much _is._  Virgil still finds it difficult to place when Roman’s bravado is just typical bravado, or if Roman is deliberately covering up.

So when Roman is late joining them for dinner, Virgil doesn’t think anything of it. In fact, he is also late, and he pauses as he makes his way down the corridor, noticing the light still faintly glowing underneath Roman’s door.

He knocks quietly. “Uh. Hey, Roman. I think dinner’s ready.” No response. Virgil feels a slight twist of something in his chest, but presses on, trying for lightness. “Yo, Romano, are you sleeping or something?” Again, silence, and Virgil knows  _that_ isn’t right- he expected at least one indignant shout from the _Romano._

He moves his hand to the doorknob, and grasps it, only to jerk back and gasp in shock at how  _cold_  it is. 

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Virgil just turns his head to look at Deceit, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He is privately proud that he doesn’t jump- it’s taken practice, of course, but it’s working.

“Yeah, I’ll take your advice when hell freezes over.”

From behind the door, there’s a fierce gust of chill wind, and Virgil only just stops himself from shivering.

Deceit’s eyes glitter. “Interesting choice of words. I’ve been known to give  _very_  good advice, Virgil. It’s such a shame it goes unheard.”

“What...” Virgil swallows, noticing how the light from Roman’s door is starting to flicker. “What did you say to him?”

Deceit tuts, pushing himself off the wall, and moving his neck slowly, one side to the other. “That would be playing fair,” he hisses, and then, with one snap of his fingers, he’s gone.

Virgil stares. From behind the door, he sees the light go out. He pulls and pulls at the doorknob, ignoring the biting cold against his skin, but the door stays firmly shut.

“L-Logan! Patton!” Virgil calls. He can hear the distortion in his voice beginning to creep in, so he clamps his mouth shut, breathing through his nose deeply.

“What in the world-” Logan, at his left side, Patton at the other. Before Virgil can explain anything, the wind howls, and all three shiver simultaneously.

“Hold on a sec,” Patton says, and before Virgil or Logan can ask, he’s already back, holding their Christmas sweaters. “Put these on, gotta keep warm.”

They all change, but Logan is muttering. “This is completely nonsensical- Roman can do many things, but influencing the _temperature_  is just not-” He taps on the doorknob himself, and they all jump back in surprise as the door groans open, almost as if it’s annoyed at Logan’s words.

* * *

_He was just so **tired**. The theatre was starting to look dilapidated, scarlet curtains fading to a muddy brown. He stared at it in dismay. He used to  **love**  it here. What happened?_

_“You’re just wasting time here,” the voice had hissed. “Come on, I’ll show you where to go.”  
_

_He went unquestioning, without even a hint of fear. It was easy to forget the danger of Deceit, without having the others around._

_He knew that was the danger. He knew **he**  needed them. But, he also knew they didn’t need him at all._

* * *

They stand in Roman’s darkened room. It’s still freezing, but the sweaters help to fend off the chill.

“This isn’t...” Logan frowns, pacing around the room. “This just isn’t right.”

Virgil nods. The room is practically bare, none of Roman’s usual flare to it, just a bed and...

“Was that always there?” Patton says.

Virgil shakes his head. “No.” He’s relieved that the distortion has gone.

They all step up to the closet- ornate in dark oak. Virgil pushes the door, expecting resistance, but it opens without a fight.

“No ‘coming out of the closet’ puns, please,” Logan says, voice tight. 

“I- I wasn’t going to!” Patton says, and it unsettles Virgil that all he can hear is the fear in his voice. 

He steps inside. He can see Roman’s sweater hung up near the front.  _He’ll be cold_ , he thinks, and the thought makes his gut twist with unease.

* * *

_“Isn’t this much better?”  
_

_He tried to speak but could only sigh._

_“You know this is for the best. Go for a walk, clear your head. I only have your interests at heart.”  
_

* * *

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Logan says, as they all push through the closet. “What are we expecting to-”

“Logan, there’s only so many places he could be!” Patton says.

“But really, if he were here, surely we would have found him already-”

Logan cuts himself off as suddenly, Virgil yelps. He draws his hand back as if burned, but feels it again. Yes, he hadn’t been mistaken- he’d definitely felt the branches of a fir tree.

But it’s only when Logan breathes, _“Impossible,”_  that Virgil makes the connection.

Not a closet, he realises. A  _wardrobe_.

* * *

_It was a strange feeling. Distantly, he could tell something was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care._

_The walk wasn’t very calming. Thorns grew no matter where he went and- (that reminded him of something, a tale from long ago, but he couldn’t think... dark side of disney... who liked that, again?) eventually, he had to conclude that he was very very lost._

_That **did**  scare him, but not as much as it should have done._

* * *

They stare, in awe, at the snow and the lamp-post and the forest.

“It’s...” Virgil tries, but trails off.

“The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,” Logan finishes for him. “Yes, precisely. But, why...”

“G-guys,” Patton says, and Virgil’s head whips up to face him. Patton is holding a torn sheet of paper, and Virgil takes it from him, seeing that they’re old drafts of their Christmas sweaters. He turns the page around to see that his own sweater had gone through multiple designs, all hastily scribbled out by Roman with various critiques ( _he’d feel uncomfortable with that; remember his style_ ) until settling on the final design ( _... good?_ )

* * *

_Fear truly flickered within him when he suddenly felt like he’d lost something. No, not just that. Forgotten. There was fear, yes, but he knew there was always a **reason** behind it. But now, he couldn’t think of why. Someone helped him with that, didn’t they? _

_Suddenly, he was watching the Prince draw out the sword from the stone, in awe. It didn’t occur to him that the armor was black and yellow. It didn’t occur to him to run._

_“Hurry along, your Highness,” the Prince spat. He didn’t know why he was calling him that. “These are **my**  rules, now.”_

* * *

Virgil drops the paper when the mirror appears, hovering before them. Patton gasps, hand automatically reaching out, but Logan says hurriedly,“Patton, stay away.  _None_  of you touch it.”

Virgil stares at it. It’s shattered, one jagged piece missing near the bottom right corner.

Logan breathes in and out, sounding both terrified and furious. “Don’t you see?” he says. “The snow... and this. They’re clues.” He grimaces. “ _Sick_  clues. He doesn’t think it matters if we understand them. He knows he’s in control.”

“Logan,” Virgil says. “What do you  _mean?_ ”

Logan closes his eyes, frowning in concentration. “Fairy tales... ugh.” He stamps his foot. “I can’t remember the title. R-Roman would know.” His voice falters a little, reminded of their loss. 

Virgil sighs. “Once upon a time,” he mumbles, intended to be sardonic, but Patton gasps again.

“Oh! Yes, Logan. The one with- oh, um...” He frowns in thought, too. “The- the... what’s it... the sprite... and the mirror-”

Logan clicks his fingers. _“-For he had made a mirror with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it was reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but that which was good-for-nothing and looked ugly was shown magnified and increased in ugliness.”_

Virgil shudders.

Logan stares at Virgil with sudden urgency. “This is  _your_  world, Virgil,” he says. “Only you can...”

“What? How is it-? No way. I-I can’t- not alone-”

Logan shakes his head. “You won’t be alone,” he says emphatically. “You and Roman share the same...  _realm_ , as it were. Where Deceit’s power is built on lies-”

At the mention of Deceit, the wind picks up, howling, but Logan pushes on, undeterred. “-You provide balance.  _Truth_. It has to be you.”

* * *

_He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know **who**  he was anymore. But, did that really matter?_

_His eyes burned with the need to rest. But, no matter how many spinning wheels he tried, none would send him into slumber. A cruel joke without a punch-line._

* * *

Typically, Virgil eventually finds him in the top turret of a castle, surrounded by thorns. He makes his way through room after room of destroyed spinning wheels, a lump in his throat. He thinks of that enchanted  _forever_  sleep from fairytales and knows, cliché or not, he doesn’t care: if it brought Roman back, he would choose to believe in the power of so-called ‘true love’s kiss.’

But, he doesn’t have to, as his heart leaps to find Roman awake. He’s pale, and looks far too small, just sitting on the cold stone floor, but it’s  _Roman_ , and his eyes are open, and that’s all Virgil cares about.

“Roman!” he shouts. He runs to him, just stopping himself from flinging his arms around his neck in relief.

Roman stares at him, blinking lethargically. “Who... who are you?” 

Virgil’s stomach drops. “No,” he whispers. “Oh no no  _no_ , come on, Roman.”

“Who is that?” Roman says.

 _“You!”_  Virgil bursts out furiously, he’s so damn _angry_ , he thinks this is the angriest he’s ever felt, and he can’t even rage at the one responsible, where is he-

“Oh,” Roman says. His voice is so hushed. “Don’t cry, dearest.”

Virgil groans, wiping his face roughly with the crook of his arm. “I c-can’t help it.” Then, he tries to laugh. “Oh jeez, don’t call me dearest. That’s  _so_ not you.”

“Wh-what _is_  me?” Roman says faintly, and he sounds so incredibly lost, that Virgil finds his eyes welling up with more tears. He tries to reply with some nicknames Roman has already used, but his throat is too tight with emotion, and he grabs the front of Roman’s shirt, clenched fists shaking. He bows his head, as yet more tears come, unbidden.

“Oh,” Roman repeats, softly. “Don’t. Why are you so sad?”

“B-because you- you don’t get it. You just don’t- you don’t know how-” Virgil swallows, looking up to meet Roman’s confused gaze. “You don’t know how  _amazing_  you are.”

“I don’t...”

In desperation, Virgil reaches for Roman’s hand, placing it over his own chest. “You made this,” he says, voice raw, as Roman’s fingers twitch over the fabric of the sweater. “And y-you don’t know... I never said.” He swallows again, because it’s time for sincerity, and he’s not used to that with Roman, he knows the pattern of banter and teasing, but now isn’t the time... “They’re- they’re  _beautiful_ , Roman. You must have spent so much time on them.”

“Did I?” Roman stares at the sweater, and blinks hard. “I did...”

“Come home,” Virgil says. “P-please. I know we’ve never... none of us, really... we never said, but _damn_  it, I’m saying it now, Roman. We- we _need_  you. We need you and your stories and your worlds, but, but- you can’t just shut yourself away, we... you  _help_.” He breathes out, searching for the right words. “You- you help  _me_. More than I... You... help me... _escape_. O-only your imagination can do that. Please, I know y-you don’t believe it and I’m so- I’m so sorry I didn’t see it, I- I didn’t understand you.” He laughs, bitterly. “And you’ve tried to understand me. You... you have to know. You make us  _better_ , too.”

“Better,” Roman echoes faintly. His eyes look glassy and far-away, and for a moment Virgil thinks he’s made things worse. But then, Roman inhales shakily, and there’s finally a spark of recognition in his eyes. He gasps, fingers pressing against Virgil’s chest. “V-V...”

“ _Yes_ ,” Virgil whispers. “Oh thank God, Roman-”

“V- _Virgil_ ,” Roman breathes out. “Where...” He groans, hand flying to his temple. “How...”

“I don’t know what he said to you,” Virgil says, “But listen to me, Roman. It’s not true, none of it.”

“Did you...” Roman blinks rapidly. “Y-you said such... such nice things. Did you mean it?”

“Every. Word.” 

Suddenly, from nowhere, a clock booms, striking midnight. Each chime reverberates in Virgil’s chest. 

“Roman,” he says urgently. “We have to get out of here.”

But Roman is shaking his head, hands covering his ears to drown out the clock. “It h- _hurts._ ”

“I know. I know, Roman, but... you can’t stay here forever. Please. We-we need reality, too.”

“He made me forget you,” Roman says suddenly, lowering his hands. His lower lip is wobbling. “I- I don’t want to forget you.” 

“Then, forget  _him_. Forget what he said. You’re the one in charge here, Roman, you make the rules.” The last bell tolls. 

“He...” Roman shakes his head again. “He’s so strong.”

“You’re stronger, I know you are. And-” Finally, Virgil pulls Roman into a hug. “You’re not alone. We can help you, I promise.”

Roman gasps against Virgil’s neck. “You don’t lie,” he murmurs, wondrously.

_“No.”_

Abruptly, the world blurs around them, but Virgil isn’t afraid. He squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his arms around Roman. “I’m here, you’ve got this, you do, you do...”

And they’re tumbling out of the wardrobe, hitting the floor hard. Virgil shakes his head to clear it, seeing Logan and Patton standing over them, faces pale with shock.

There is a hiss in the air.

Virgil stands. “Wait.” He carefully pulls a shaking Roman to his feet, and guides him over to Logan and Patton. “Look after him.”

He peers into the wardrobe to see the yellow snake, frail, weakly hissing, coiled into a corner. 

“Get  _out_ ,” Virgil says icily. “This isn’t your world.”

He steps back, and slams the door shut. The wardrobe fades away instantly, replaced with Roman’s usual walk-in closet. Virgil breathes out, but he turns at the sound of gut-wrenching sobs, and sees Roman in Patton’s arms, Logan frantically trying to shush him.

“D-don’t let me fall asleep,” Roman cries. “P-please-”

“Roman, you’re exhausted,” Patton pleads. “You’ll feel so much better, just-”

 _“No,”_  Roman wails. “No, you don’t-I-oh God-I-I-I don’t want to f-forget-”

“Forget?” Logan repeats. “What-?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Virgil bends down so he can meet Roman’s gaze. He’s heartbroken at how Roman’s crying is only tiring him even more, forcing him to slip under even though he’s so desperately afraid. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. You’re safe, you’re  _home_ , I-I won’t leave you, I promise. Shh...”

* * *

The first thing Roman sees is a purple blanket over him, and he instantly knows he’s in Virgil’s room.

But, there’s none of the background panic from before. He feels... drained. It takes him a while to realise someone is actually speaking, and there’s a hand running through his hair every so often.

_“Suddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds; but Gerda repeated her evening prayer, and the winds were laid as though they slept; and the little maiden entered the vast, empty, cold halls.”_

Roman blinks slowly. He glances up, and sees that Virgil is sat on the bed beside him. One hand keeps running through Roman’s hair, and the other steadies a book propped up on his knees. His voice is soft, and very nearly lulls Roman back to sleep again.

_“There she beheld Kay: she recognised him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly holding him the while, "Kay, sweet little Kay! Have I then found you at last?”_

Roman blinks awake again, noticing how Virgil’s voice inexplicably shook on that last word. He glances up once more, just in time to see Virgil sniff. 

 _“But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little Gerda shed burning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking-glass...”_  Here, Virgil breaks off to sniff again, and Roman watches, a little stunned as he quickly swipes at his eyes. The remaining words are mumbled, but Roman strains to hear:

_“...Hereupon Kay burst into tears; he wept so much that the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognised her, and shouted, "Gerda, sweet little Gerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?" He looked round him. "How cold it is here!" said he. "How empty and cold!"”_

Now, Virgil makes some sort of grieved noise, deep in the back of his throat, and the book falls to the ground as he puts his head in his hands. 

“Oh,” Roman says, and he feels the pain in Virgil’s tears. “Don’t cry.” The words feel strange and distant, but also as if he’s said them before, somewhere far away...

Virgil’s shoulders shake- though from laughter or sobs, Roman isn’t sure. Perhaps it’s both. 

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Virgil says, dropping his hands, “that you’re  _worth_ crying over?”

Roman doesn’t quite know what to say to that. He sits up a little so he can lay his head on Virgil’s shoulder.

“You...  _rescued_ me,” he says. Those words also feel familiar, but they also feel so incredibly  _true_. 

Virgil sighs, wrapping his arms around Roman, and carefully moving so they’re both laying down. “Just returning the favour.”

If Roman had the energy to, he would have frowned. “I’ve never saved you,” he mumbles. This time, his eyes shut without fear.

He feels lips press against his forehead. “You already have,” Virgil whispers, just as Roman slips back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful art of a scene in this! https://virgilsjourney.tumblr.com/post/171827322105/ahoardofsides-sad-roman-sketch-from


End file.
